


Mystery Lover

by taeminsfairywaist



Category: SHINee
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Prince Taemin!Au, Royalty AU, Songfic, idk how to word it but taem's the prince reader's a servant, its not really fake dating??? secret dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-30 02:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13940667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taeminsfairywaist/pseuds/taeminsfairywaist
Summary: No matter how badly he wanted it, you could never be his. A prince and the castle servant- it was impossible. Taemin had known that it could only end one way, from the moment he caught your eyes in the golden halls to the first time he swore he loved you against your lips.If anyone found out, you would be hanged, and he would be proclaimed the bastard king, exiled from the castle and forced to live his days in the shame of loving someone without a pedigree. Though, sometimes he would recall the story his mother would tell him as a child; the story of how she went to a village in an attempt to escape royalty for a night, only to fall in love with a penniless farmer. How the king had almost been a common man. He still never knew the ending.





	Mystery Lover

You were his for mere moments at a time. Minutes, hours carved out in the night time, his eyes only able to behold you in moonlight filtered through silk curtains. He never had enough, you were always gone so soon- far too soon.

He had to get his fill of you, no matter how short the time. His hands would explore every inch, memorizing every curve, every dip, every flawed millimeter of skin until he could feel the topography of your spine even when you were gone. Every sound you made, no matter how small, he stored in the deepest recesses of his mind, drawing them from you over and over until the only sounds left were your labored breaths. And in the time period between, where you lay under the blankets with your head tucked under his chin, he savored every last second.

Your lungs would heave a sigh, and he knew that he had to be alone again. The space you filled would grow cold, his last fleeting memory of you clinging to his pillows in the addictive scent of your perfume.

No matter how badly he wanted it, you could never be his. A prince and the castle servant- it was impossible. Taemin had known that it could only end one way, from the moment he caught your eyes in the golden halls to the first time he swore he loved you against your lips.

If anyone found out, you would be hanged, and he would be proclaimed the bastard king, exiled from the castle and forced to live his days in the shame of loving someone without a pedigree. Though, sometimes he would recall the story his mother would tell him as a child; the story of how she went to a village in an attempt to escape royalty for a night, only to fall in love with a penniless farmer. How the king had almost been a common man. He still never knew the ending.

He liked to imagine that he was born from love instead of politics. He had always been hopeful and hardworking, his time filled with princely duties and dreaming of you next to him on the throne, the pet name ‘princess’ falling off his tongue every moment he was alone with you.

Alas, no matter how hard he hoped, the image of a world without you plagued his dreams, and the nights where the bed was warm and you were pressed to his side, he would beg you to stay.

_ Just until I fall asleep, _ he would whisper against your jaw, arms locked tight around you,  _ please _

 

It was as if he thought you could refuse a request. You knew it hurt him to leave- it felt like a cattle brand against your tongue to pull away and feel his longing eyes burning into your back. And it stung more to pretend not to know him as you did, to pass him in the palace corridors with your eyes locking on the ground and his not sparing you a single glance. The times when the hallways echoed with only your footsteps, he would pull you to his chest and leave a chaste kiss on your forehead before pulling away, striding on as if nothing had occurred while you were left to deal with the fire in your cheeks.

It would never be enough.

The pretending hurt, the leaving  _ hurt _ , and the apologies murmured against skin only soothed the pain in the moments where the charade was gone.

You knew, one day, a princess would come along. A regal thing, with a gown of silk and gold dripping from her words. Your prince would be taken, and you would fall into the background, a simple maid once again with only fond memories of Taemin.

But for now, under the cover of the moon and the silk blankets of his bed, you could pretend that one day, you could be his princess, just in the small moments where he could afford the freedom to treat you like one.

 

~~

 

You made a mistake. A horrible, catastrophic, apocalyptic mistake.

 

You had fallen asleep.

 

The whole castle slept at night, save for the guards at major entrance ways. The kingdom was in a time of peace; they didn’t need to guard every door. At night, the dance between you and the prince was sacred,  _ safe _ .

The sunrise was the most terrifying thing you could have woken up to. Your dorm in the servant’s quarters bore tiny windows that faced the west; you were woken only by the birds singing outside when the sun had grown warm enough to stir them. 

But you were woken by golden rays of pure light falling upon your bare shoulders, the warmth of a body flush against your skin. Taemin was still asleep. You had  _ watched _ him fall asleep, as you always did after the night when he spilled every fear to you. You usually only stayed until he wouldn’t notice you leave, but you had been selfish,  _ foolish _ \- you had closed your eyes for just a moment.

It seemed as if your life only mattered in small moments.

You shot up straight, the prince’s arm falling from its place on your shoulders, joining the pool of blankets on your hips. A small noise of complaint sounded from him, small and rough with sleep as he attempted to pull you closer.

It was the sound of your sniffles that woke him. It felt like ice poured down his spine; the staccato of your breaths and the hiccups shaking your shoulders as you began to cry, hot tears wiped away by his thumbs replaced within seconds as you pressed your hand over your mouth.

 

You were done for.

 

They’d kill you. You’d tainted their beloved prince, the crown jewel of the royal family, the kingdom’s pride- you’d breathed in his air and he had been exposed to yours. 

Your poor, poverty stricken history had practically left dirt on his skin where you touched him.

And so, you cried. Tears welled in his eyes because no matter how hard he tried to calm you, to speak softly and tell you it was all okay, you were still crying and shaking. His princess, falling apart because you didn’t leave before the sun arrived.

It took nearly an hour for you to calm down. An hour of his fingers tracing your spine, palms pressing against your cheeks, kisses pressed to your forehead and tears falling from your lovely prince’s eyes.

You collected yourself, he pulled your clothes over your head, and hugged you tight, promising that everything would turn out okay. That he would protect you, that he wouldn’t let anyone touch you, that you could still be with him.

A servant of your status had no business being near his room, let alone in it. Only hours later, the castle was alive and ringing with the rumors of the prince’s mistress, and you hid in the servant’s dorms, a pillow over your head as you fought the image of a noose from your mind.

Adultery. Adultery between a lowly servant who was barely good enough to touch the dust in the palace air and the kingdom’s pristine, perfect prince. You would be dead by morning, but you did your best to believe his promise, no matter how empty it seemed.

When the last rays of sunlight fell through the small windows of your room, a messenger knocked on your door, saying that the prince wished to speak with you. There was a tone in the man’s voice, a potent mixture of confusion and disgust, that left the taste of blood on your tongue. You looked at the floor, following your own feet across the ivory tile all the way to the royal chambers. With shaking hands, you knocked quietly on the towering oak doors, swallowing the lump in your throat and blinking away the sting of salt in your eyes.

A second barely past before the doors swung open, and you were pulled by the arm inside, embraced in a crushing hug. Taemin smiled against your shoulder- you could feel the upwards curve of his lips against your sleeve, but you didn’t need to feel it to know. Laughter bubbled from his chest, the kind you only heard rarely, as he lifted you from the floor by your waist, spinning you until the corridor was nothing more than a blur of red and gold.

“My princess,  _ my _ princess,” he sang, setting your unsteady feet back on the ground as kisses were peppered across your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your eyelids. You could only stare up at him in confusion, a few stray tears rolling down your cheeks. He wiped them away, beaming at you, letting his forehead rest against yours, “I promised you, didn’t I? I promised it would be alright.”

“I-it’s not, though…?” your voice shook.

“I never told you the story of my mother, did I?” he answered softly, nuzzling his nose lovingly against your cheek as you shook your head.

And so, he told you the story of a princess who couldn’t bear the thought of marrying someone for such a shallow reason such as money or land, who watched the city lanterns flicker on when the sun set, envying the rivers of people filling the streets with laughter and life. How the princess, with the help of the servants, escaped to the town, only to meet a man who could barely string a sentence together around her. How for the first time, all her royal training to be charismatic and charming fell away as a single, common man stole all the words from her head. How she returned night and night again, if only to meet him for an hour or less before she had to return to the cold palace.

How, when a prince came along, his father waving money for her hand, she begged the prince to help her. And how the prince convinced his father to find another princess so that the first man without royal blood could sit on the throne next to the soon to be queen. How a prince was born from love and not money, who fell into the same, wonderful trap as his mother, falling in love with someone he thought he could never have.

And you cried, your face splitting into a smile that made your cheeks hurt, your chest filling with happiness that felt like flowers blossoming between your ribs; you laughed through tears as your arms wrapped around him for the first time since you entered the room, because it was finally okay. Your prince, he was  _ your _ prince, and you mumbled it in disbelief into the cloth of his shirt, wondering when you would wake up from this dream.

 

You wondered the same as you looked down at the pristine white skirts flowing down to the velvet floors, pearls and flowers braided into your hair and your fingers laced in the prince’s- the  _ king’s _ .

The kingdom rang with news of the new king and queen, and how the wedding would be in the history books until the end of time, thanks to the crowd, a wonderful collage of silk and cotton blended into the happiness that knew no wealth.

**Author's Note:**

> does this even count as a songfic??? i got inspo from listening to mystery lover. n e ways this was a lowkey birthday gift for my friend but im posting it here bc i crave that sweet sweet validation


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